10. Patronage - More Classroom Jobs

It wasn't until I joined Meyer Levin Junior High School as a teacher that I perfected the fine art of patronage. If I had thirty kids in my homeroom class, my goal was to give each one a 'job.' And they loved it! When I took charge of the book supply room there were so many kids in my official class doing 'stuff' that I thought about assigning student supervisors. I was once late to class and when I came in every one was doing his/her assigned job.

Hampton Gathers was my favorite. First, I loved the name. Some days I would call on him five or six times in English class or in homeroom, just to hear the sound of his name. Hampton Gathers. He was my main man. This kid was ultra cool before cool was even invented and he was what I unofficially called our 'lollipop monitor'. As important as his job was, it was, at best, a part-time assignment. But Hampton embraced it with his whole being.

Let me refresh your memory.

Every room had a round red sign, about twelve inches in diameter. Stenciled on each side was the room number. And this sign was attached to a wooden dowel about the size and length of a teacher's wooden pointer. During a fire drill, and other occasions requiring evacuation of the building, the teacher was expected to carry the sign aloft as he and the class behind him left the building in an orderly fashion. This way, the class, in the ensuing frenzy could easily reassemble.  Unless it wasn't a regularly scheduled drill.  The standing rule in that case was everyone shorter than the teacher was to get the hell out of his way as he left the building 

Now, on paper, this sounds like a plan.

And if there was one thing this teacher shared with his students, it was the opportunity on some early spring afternoon, when the leaves are just beginning to bud, to leave the building for a nice stroll out Beverly Road and left along Ralph Avenue, cross Tilden Avenue and observe the miracles of nature and possibly make a quick detour toward Tomain Joe's Luncheonette.

What this teacher did not particularly like was having to carry the silly sign in the building, let alone out in the street.

Hampton Gathers to the rescue. My main man.

Hampton was pressed into service maybe three times that year and on one occasion for an unexpected fire drill. The latter caused major administrative concern. The smart money put the blame on Hampton who vigorously denied any wrongdoing. Everyone knew it was not a scheduled fire drill because it wasn't a particularly warm day; Dr. Herselle would never schedule a drill on a day where students might be required to put on coats. And the last thing he wanted was a posse of piqued panicked parents parading into the principal's office.

(Go ahead, read that last sentence again.  I know you want to.)

My absolute best student assistant was Carol G. On my first day in the school, Carol told me I would need a class secretary and she would be happy to be that person. She was in my 8th grade SP official class.

Anyway, Carol, at the ripe age of 13, was as organized as many of the secretaries I've had since leaving teaching. And, she could print like a typewriter. Remember, this is before computers. I mean this kid was great. Carol's arrival signaled the end of most of my attendance recordkeeping and administrative duties. And she knew how to keep confidential stuff confidential. (She later expanded her duties to be our son's babysitter. How neat was that?)

There was one job in junior high school, because of its importance, that could not be relegated to students. During passing between classes, all teachers were required to stand outside their classroom to observe the flow of student traffic. For what? To break up fights? In Meyer Levin in the sixties? To watch for kids passing on the right or weaving in traffic? Ha! Pity the poor student who inadvertently made a left turn across oncoming traffic to enter a classroom without first going to the designated u-turn area, so marked on the corridor floor with turn arrows. Amazing the power of the system. Three years in the school. I don't think I ever saw a kid knowingly cross that line and if he or she had, what punishment would be appropriate? "Well, technically it is a moving violation. We may have to bar you from graduation ceremonies."

I used to like calling a kid walking on the other side of the hall to see me and see how he or she would react. Invariably the student would walk forty feet further down the hall, make a u-turn at the designated arrow and come back to where I was standing. By that time I had forgotten what I wanted to tell him.

I don't know if teachers were exempt from the white line rule, but until I got tenure, I wasn't going to take any chances.

In Memorium - 

Hampton Gathers, My Main Man 

1954 - 2017